


Just Books

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Historical, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Snippets of History, The Library of Alexandria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: Sprung from the thought, “Aziraphale would have LOVED the Library of Alexandria, huh?”





	Just Books

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written for a new fandom SO FAST.

It started at a library.

_ The  _ library, if we’re going to get specific about it, which we are. 

“So,  _ this  _ is where you’ve holed yourself up for the past decade?” Crowley said, letting the tips of his fingers absently play with the edges of a scroll laying rolled up on a shelf while he lounged on a wooden chair. “Of all the dull places.” 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Aziraphale murmured, nose deep in a scroll of his own, his eyes alight with excitement like he’d only just discovered the written word for the first time. 

“It’s no gladiatorial combat, that’s for sure.” Crowley said, swinging one leg back and forth where it dangled over the armrest. “Now  _ there’s  _ a good time.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” 

“It’s the perfect cesspool for sin, you know. Not the violence - too obvious - but can you imagine the amount of small talk between neighbors that each game brings? Eurg. Small talk. The ultimate sin.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“And then the Dark Lord Satan Himself decided to pop in for a visit yesterday, brought me a bouquet of roses, and decided to serenade me. Lovely singing voice he has, the Dark Lord Satan.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Crowley frowned when he realized he wasn’t being listened to, materialized a small pebble and tossed it at the back of Aziraphale’s head. 

“Ouch!” Aziraphale rubbed at his head as he turned around towards Crowley. “What was that for?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be spreading good or something?” Crowley asked, ignoring the question. “I can’t imagine that reading books from boring old nobodies can be fulfilling your duties.” 

“Boring old -“ Aziraphale look affronted. “- these are the works of  _ Aristotle _ .”

“Whom you’ve bothered in person before. He was a bit of a prick wasn’t he?” Crowley glanced around him at the high ceiling and painted columns that surrounded shelves upon shelves of scrolls. “What is this place anyway?”

“The library of Alexandria.” Aziraphale answered fondly, stroking a hand along the scroll he’s been reading with a tender smile. “The largest collection of knowledge the world has ever seen. It’s astounding, really. Generations can exist in a single room.”

“They can do that in a crypt, too.” Crowley muttered, picking at a loose string on his robe. 

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Crowley picked himself up from the chair and sauntered over to the desk Aziraphale was currently inhabiting. “Well, nevermind me, angel. I was just growing concerned that your do-good attitude hadn’t been seen or heard from in a while.” 

Aziraphale blinked. 

“Concerned… for my well-being?” 

Crowley scoffed. 

“Of course not. Concerned that you were plotting something big, not wasting away in a library.” He sniffed and adjusted the dark rimmed spectacles he’d taken to sporting recently. “Seeing as you’re just being dull, I’ll be off then. Spreading the seeds of dissension, causing riots, inventing gossip columns - doing my  _ job _ , you know.”

Then he was gone. 

Aziraphale went back to his scroll.

***

Everything was burning. 

“No, no, no! Leave that alone!” 

Aziraphale ran to the shelves of his favorite scrolls, dodging walls of flames and soldiers to reach it, but it was far, far too late. 

“Please no, not the books!” He miracled one book back to its original condition only to have it burst back into flame. “Heaven help me!”

“I hope that’s negotiable.”

A hand grasped Aziraphale’s shoulder, and Crowley was there, glancing - if possible - nervously around them at the flames and destruction. 

“Was this  _ you?” _ Aziraphale demanded, reaching for another burning scroll and pulling back with a hiss when it burned his corporeal form. “Did  _ you  _ tempt people into -“

“No!” Crowley yelled, sounded affronted. “Believe it or not, the worst deeds you’ll ever see are pure humanity. Now come  _ on!”  _

He tugged at Aziraphale’s shoulder insistently urging him towards the exit, but Aziraphale’s eyes were on every burning book, every engulfed scroll, every consumed scrap of knowledge that was now lost to the universe. 

“I need to - I need to save -“ 

“ _ Yourself _ , angel. The paperwork if you die will be abhorrent. Now let’s  _ go!” _

Aziraphale wasn’t listening. 

The books were burning. 

“But I need to -“

“Oh for the love of -“

Crowley’s grip switched to Aziraphale’s hand as he dragged the angel out of the burning library as near-deadweight and didn’t stop until the smoke cleared from his lungs and the heat from the flames no longer threatened to blister. 

They sat at the top of a hill, out of breath, watching the library smoulder.

“You’re welcome.” Crowley muttered, patting ash from off of his robes. 

Aziraphale said nothing, and only stared at the licking flames with a blank expression, a single tear cutting through the soot on his cheeks. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley spoke up finally, worried that somehow he’d managed to break an angel. “They’re just books. Humans will write new ones.”

“They’re never just books, Crowley.” Aziraphale said softly, and that was all he could say, really. It was all he could do to attempt to portray how much loss had been suffered. “They’re never just books.” 

Crowley nodded once, and quietly left Aziraphale alone in his mourning.

***

A bomb went off, and then came the panic in Aziraphale’s voice. 

“I forgot all the books!” Said Aziraphale frantically. “They’ll all be blown to…”

He stopped, staring in shock when Crowley handed him his bag.

“Little demonic miracle of my own.” Crowley said and began navigating his way through the rubble as if he hadn’t just saved part of Aziraphale’s heart. “Lift home?” 

There was silence behind Crowley for much longer than he’d expected, and he turned to see Aziraphale staring at him with a look he’d never seen directed towards him _.  _ Towards his books, yes. Towards crepes on a very good day. 

But never towards  _ him.  _

“What?”

“You saved my books?”

Crowley fished out the keys to his car from his pocket distractedly.

“Well… you know… the last time some books you liked got destroyed… you moped around for an entire century and were no fun at all.” 

Aziraphale’s look didn’t falter. 

“But they - they’re just books.” 

Crowley shrugged, opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it once more. 

“They’re never just books, angel.” Crowley said with the most sincerity Aziraphale had ever heard. “Now, do you want a lift or not? This is a one time thing - I’m not running a cab service.”

Aziraphale smiled and hugged the books right to his chest as he nodded. 

“Thank you.” He said. 

And the words had little to do with the lift. 


End file.
